"Boards are green…" Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko frowned at the panels in the cockpit of the Normandy. The ship was solid, inside and out—he did not have the aesthetic appreciation for the vessel as others did. Still, it was a sturdy little ship. "Still." It was not as though they were out of the docking bay.

If Joker—flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau refused to answer to anything else—asked him one more time…it was going to set off a migraine. Alenko just knew it. The pilot was bored, he had to be. He could only hope Joker proved half as good as he boasted; in the manner of all hotshot pilots, Alenko thought wearily. They all had big mouths, at least, those he knew.

"Green is good…" Joker's hands danced across the panels, eyes narrowed at the panels as if expecting trouble. "Green is very good…trust me." He ignored the irritation emanating from Alenko patiently. Once they got this baby out in deep space, Alenko would stop sulking. Alenko was fun to elbow in the ribs, he made grim stoic faces and made painfully prosaic issue-dodging answers.

Not exactly a cunning wit, but definitely fun to hassle.

Alenko closed his eyes, rolling them, unseen. If Joker was this paranoid while docked, what kind of neurotic would he be once they took the ship out into real space? "You know, this thing's not going to get scuffed while docked," Alenko pointed out, relaxing slightly in the padded copilot's chair. Not exactly a comfortable fit, it was designed for someone shorter, but at least it was padded.

"She, Alenko, the ship's always a she, you should know that…" Everyone who worked on a ship knew that—or should know. "People'll think you spent your life pounding dirt."

Alenko rolled his eyes again. What did Joker think a ground team did when not aboard ship?

"Besides, you can never be too careful…ah-ha, there she is…the rest of the brass." Joker pulled up an external security feed. "Captain Anderson?" Joker found the Captain's radio frequency, and activated it.

"Yes, Joker?"

"Your XO is here." He fiddled with his console, zooming in as the XO lumbered along, listing to one side with the weight of the weapons case in one hand. Whatever firepower she had in there, it was heavy, and she was obviously not used to carrying it in a case.

What did he have in that thing? A bazooka?

A short pause before the Captain's gravelly voice came across the channel. "Good, I'll be up shortly."

Alenko squinted at the moving image while Joker spoke with the Captain. There was something oddly familiar about the XO from this distance. He could have sworn he'd seen her before…

"So…what do you think?" Joker panned back a bit, so they could see the soldier from cap to boot as she moved steadily along.

"You know what I think," Alenko shook his head, knowing what Joker was really asking. It wasn't a question Joker, or Alenko himself, ought to think on too hard. Not with regards to an executive officer, anyway. So, with all due respect to female marines he had come up with an acceptable answer to this uncomfortable question. "'Tonka tuff'."

Not 'built like a Mack', but 'Tonka tuff'. Alenko had no idea where his mother picked the saying up, only that it seemed to fit. He had a feeling yellow pint-sized construction vehicles came into the equation somewhere, but couldn't be sure.

Joker snorted at this answer. Alenko ought to be in intel somewhere. If he wasn't a biotic, he'd be behind a desk in some dingy basement playing charts and darts with big nerd glasses…

Joker's expression changed in an instant as the XO paused to heft her sea bag more securely onto her shoulder. "Aw crap…" Joker's jaw sagged slightly as the image sharpened again, revealing a narrow, angular face, a faint lopsided smirk, and vivid eyes, neither blue nor green. "That's…"

"No way…" Alenko watched the easily recognizable visage of Commander J. Shepard, the Hero of Elysium striding purposefully towards the Normandy. His stomach quavered uneasily—that could be the source of odd recognition. His stomach tensed again, though this time it had nothing to do with seeing another celebrity onboard.

Well, yes, it did. Captain Anderson, a hotshot crew…and now Shepard. And they were all supposed to take this ship—prototype or not—on a shakedown run? On a Sunday afternoon walk in the park? It didn't add up. Even for a unique ship like the Normandy. Was it just him, or was there too much talent, and too much brass on this boat? Reservations increased. Something boiled just beneath the surface where neither he, nor anyone else could see it.

He hoped it would not boil over, but with two combat-tested combat-proven N7s on this rig, he could not help thinking things would boil over. The crew would be the ones who got scalded.

That is her…" Joker glanced at Alenko then back to the display.

Stories about Shepard ranged from putting her at half-past crazy, to one of the best officers a soldier could hope to serve with, to being the most frigid bitch the Alliance ever recruited, depending on who you asked.

Batarians apparently had an extremely low opinion of her, and had probably invented brand new slurs in her honor—though that was only scuttlebutt, and therefore not to be taken too seriously.

The commlink to the outside world beeped. "Lt. Commander J. Shepard, reporting for duty. Requesting permission to come aboard." It was not a question. Her voice, husky from hauling the luggage around, came across clearly over the radio. She knew where to look for the security cameras, for she immediately faced it.

"…Uh…just a minute, Commander—got to verify you." Joker cued the appropriate measures. "Stuff blows up around some of these people…"

"Look like you're going to have to work, after all: you won't want to scuff the Normandy's finish."